


And In Our Faults By Lies We Flatter’d Be

by asabovesobelow (wherewouldwebe)



Category: Anne of Green Gables (TV 1985) & Related Fandoms, Anne of Green Gables - L. M. Montgomery, Anne with an E (TV)
Genre: Alternate Canon, Canon Related, F/M, First Kiss, Fluff, Humor, enemies but not really, takes place during season 2
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-22
Updated: 2020-02-22
Packaged: 2021-02-22 15:50:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,772
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22851946
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wherewouldwebe/pseuds/asabovesobelow
Summary: Had Anne an arsenal of romantic experiences behind her, this would continue to mean as little as it has. But Anne suddenly, horrifyingly, realized that the closest she has come to romance in her life was not with her dear friend Cole.It was with Jerry!In which Anne decides she needs to experience romance once, before she pledges herself as a bride to Adventure.
Relationships: Gilbert Blythe/Anne Shirley
Comments: 10
Kudos: 133





	And In Our Faults By Lies We Flatter’d Be

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! I binged Anne With an E in a few days and forget the chronological order of things, so forgive me of some of this does not make sense, and try to enjoy anyway!

When Charlie first made his feelings obvious to Anne, she had decided to make the choice of being willfully, determinedly ignorant.

It wasn’t an easy choice. Anne was not stupid, and she didn’t like play-acting as such. But in all, it seemed far easier than rebuffing an offer that had never technically been made. It was a testament to Charlie’s cowardice, that he wouldn’t come right out and say he liked her so she could have a chance to tell him that she didn’t like him back. If she were to reject him without the confession, he would likely tell her he never liked her either, and Anne would be laughed at by the entire school for being presumptuous and vain. Maybe that was his scheme all along—to humiliate her in front of everyone.

There was nothing particularly wrong with Charlie, except the most grievous sin of being boring. While Anne was plain in looks, Charlie was plain in spirit. He laughed when the other boys laughed (no matter how heinous the joke), read with a monotone when prompted to read aloud, and seemed intelligent enough, but lacked the fire to use it. Anne would never judge someone for not being smart, but she would harshly judge those who were lazy. Charlie could be real competition, if he had a competitive bone in his body. At the asylum, Anne had to work hard to show she was worthy of schooling, and though she loves the Cuthberts more than anything, she still remembers her trial, how desperately she tried to show them she was deserving of their home, their love, their generosity.

Charlie would sail through a life with none of these hardships, Lord willing, and he would never have to prove himself to anyone. Anne hoped this for him as she would for anyone, but she resented it in equal measure. If one was given every opportunity to be great, why would they not work their hardest to make it so?

So at school, Anne tried her best to always be in rapturous conversation with her bosom friend during lunch, so that Charlie may take the queue to leave her alone. It was the harvest soon, so if she could avoid talking to him for the next fortnight, the break from school may provide enough time for him to be bored of her by the time they returned.

A voice in the back of her head that sounded an awful lot like her 13-year-old self, whispered that she should be delighted by the attention, no matter how cowardly and non-committal. Anne had made the decision long ago that she was not beautiful enough to be loved romantically, and now, without even trying, she managed to be the object of somebody’s desire. But that voice was her immature former self. She was all of 14 now, practically a woman, and she had promised herself to Adventure, to a worldly self that had no need of another’s opinion of her.

“Love is its own adventure,” Ruby had remarked to her during their writing circle in the woods, when she voiced her opinions to her small circle. Ruby’s way with words was progressing wonderfully, provided romance was the subject. “Oh Anne, even if you do end up an old maid, you will want an experience to look back on.”

And though she dismissed the comment entirely, it came back to her during her walk home. The evenings were getting shorter, and though the trees were in their wonderful transition of late autumn, the grey sky muted their glorious hues of reds and browns. Anne felt muted too, unable to shine as brightly as she would like with the fog of Ruby’s words in her brain.

Anne has experienced plenty in her lifetime, and she was not convinced that she won’t have plenty to look back on. She would not miss the memory of romance one bit, she was sure.

And it wasn’t like she didn’t have love. She had the Cuthberts, and her bosom friend, and Cole, with whom she was even in a sort of marriage arrangement with!  
It was not romantical, but it was love, and it was more important than romance anyway. Anne liked that her experiences have not been conventional. She has not been kissed, but she has kissed Cole, on the cheek. She even dipped him like she was the boy, and that is an experience that few can claim. If her most romantical memories ended up being those of her friendship with Cole, she imagined she would not feel robbed one bit.

She has also kissed Jerry on the cheek, she suddenly remembered as the barn came into her view. But that hardly counted.

It wasn’t until she was in bed that night that another memory made its way, unbidden, into her mind. The snow queen’s branches battered hard against her window with the storm, and the sudden crack of thunder made her sit up straight in bed despite the late hour.

She was not afraid of thunder. Not her. But the memory of Jerry’s small scared voice as he asked to share her bed in Aunt Josephine’s estate filled her uneasy mind. And suddenly a realization dawned on her more fearsome than any storm.

She had shared her bed with Jerry Baynard. Had Anne an arsenal of romantic experiences behind her, this would continue to mean as little as it has. But Anne suddenly, horrifyingly, realized that the closest she has come to romance in her life was not with her dear friend Cole.

It was with Jerry!

No, this would not do. Not one bit! The tragedy of it, the absolute injustice!

Anne’s mind was the most fertile of soil, and if she let this seed sit in it, it would only grow. When she became older, this would be in her thoughts as the most romantical experience she had! _Jerry!_ Oh, her life would be simply ruined if the annoying farm boy remained the closest thing to a paramour she could think of!

  
Anne did not eat the next morning, her stomach turned inside out with grief. Grief for her future self, who does not yet exist and does not yet know how terrible her life will become. She simply replays the memory of Jerry climbing into her bed again and again with disgust. One day, she may become so starved for love that this memory becomes a fond one. No, she could _not_ allow this to happen!

As Marilla scolded Anne for not eating, Anne hardly heard her. She was too focused on trying to prevent her prediction of the future at all costs. How could she stop this awful vision of her thinking of Jerry ( _Jerry!_ ) fondly.

  
It was as she was clearing up the dishes that the idea came to her. Ruby’s advice—“You will want an experience to look back on”—cut through the din of her troubled thoughts.

That was it!

It was not too late to make such an experience on purpose. She just needed a memory more prevalent to romance, just one, in order to fix this woeful problem and save her future self from ever having to think of Jerry as more than an irritating almost-friend.

A kiss should do. A real one, on the lips. All of the other girls in school had had their first kiss already, either before or during Josie’s game of spin-the-bottle. It would mean nothing to them once they experienced actual romance, but that was not the life she was destined for. So a kiss would be a lot, and it would be enough.

She practically ran past the barn and through the gap in the fence, to avoid seeing Jerry as she left. He would know something was wrong, and she did not need him asking questions at all. She wasn’t sure if he would find it equally as tragic, or if he would laugh, if she were to share her precarious situation with him. Perhaps she should warn him, she thought, so as he could make plans to avoid the same fate. But she would not tell him, no. At least not until it was a retrospective. _“You know, it’s funny, Jerry. Before my first kiss, I was almost doomed to considering our experiences romantical.”_ That way, he could not tease her, as she would have already fixed the problem.

She barely slowed down as she made her way to the schoolhouse, books and slate knocking against her shoulder blades as she ran through the unequal terrain of the forest.

She was so caught up in the worry of how to action her plan, that she barely noticed there was someone else walking into her path until she almost ran straight into him.

He had reflexively outstretched his arms, catching her momentum by her shoulders to avoid a crash. “Whoa, what’s got you all excited, Carrots?”

She was so wound up, she opened her mouth to shout at him, but she was the one who almost tackled him, so she did not have a leg to stand on. Instead, she closed her mouth and let the air huff out of her nostrils.

Gilbert Blythe had a lot of nerve resurrecting that name for her.

He had begun calling her Carrots again shortly after his return from the ship. He had begun to resurrect a lot of his old habits actually. And she had begun arguing with him, and calling him annoying, and trying her best to beat him in classes and trying just as hard to ignore him entirely. By the second month of his return, their relationship had reverted back to how it was before the truce was called.

She was not sure who started it, him or her, but she knew she was grateful in a way. When he left, she began to miss him, and think about the day they met in Charlottesville, and feel a melancholy that she did not want to investigate. When he returned, she could not find anything smart to say, so she said nothing to him really, and suddenly they were back to their old ways. It was much easier this way, to be annoyed by him instead of confused. But of course, she would never tell him that.

“It’s none of your business,” she mumbled through her teeth. Then, noticing that his hands were still on her shoulders, she added: “Please unhand me.”

He gave her an irritating, smug smirk, quirking an eyebrow and raising his arms as if in surrender. But he did not move from directly in front of her, only turned to the side to allow her some room to walk past him. She could feel his smile even as she walked away from him, as if he had won whatever small battle they had just fought. She decided that ignoring it would be her own victory.

“Come on, can’t you give me a hint?” he chuckled as he followed her towards the school. She clenched her jaw and resolutely walked on. “Is it because you finally learned how to spell ‘Reservoir’?”

Her step faltered slightly as she fought against turning around and giving him the satisfaction of a reaction. One time, _one time_ since his return she lost a spelling bee to him, and the word was entirely unfair! Nobody pronounces the second ‘R’! She was sure that Mr. Phillips was trying to set her up for failure. He would be leaving Avonlea soon, after he married, and it seemed to Anne that he had decided his departing gift would be trying to humiliate her.

Anne walked on, not voicing the thousand responses in her mind about the amount of times she has beaten him in a spelling bee, and how he had faltered on much simpler words. She would not feed his wish to rile her up under any circumstance.

He caught up to her pace quickly, walking alongside her, and she bit the inside of her cheek as he put his hands in his pockets and whistled a tune she did not recognize. Perhaps he learned it on his travels, and perhaps he wanted her to ask about it, or tell him to stop, but if she did, he would shoot her another smug smile, and she would lose again.

She climbed the steps of the schoolhouse quickly, so that he could not open the door for her. She shed her scarf and hat and coat equally as quickly, so she could take her seat beside her dearest friend and forget about the wretched boy for a while. When she threw herself into her seat, Diana frowned.

“Are you alright, Anne?”

She smiled at Diana’s sweet, concerned face. “I am much better now, to be in your wonderful company,” she gushed, and her friend took her hand in hers with a flattered smile.

“That’s lovely to hear, but you look terribly tired. Are you sure nothing is the matter?”

Anne _was_ tired, and until asked about it, she had almost completely forgotten the source of her sleepless state. “Oh! I am exhausted Diana, I was unable to sleep because of a nightmare! But you must realize, this was not a dream, but rather a thought that plagued my memory so tragically, I could not sleep at all!”

Diana stifled a giggle, as she was wont to do during Anne’s more dramatic humors. “You must tell me everything.”

Anne’s instinct to pour her heart out to her kindred spirit was quickly stifled when she caught Gilbert in her peripheral vision, taking his seat, but turned from the table and towards her and her friend. She clamped her mouth shut instantly, then muttered “later” under her breath.

As the rest of the class poured in to the room, her eye caught Charlie’s. He raised his hand as if imitating a wave, but not high enough to draw the attention of any of his friends. Then he smiled.

Anne quickly turned to face forward. However, seeing Charlie coupled with remembering her troubles sparked a plan inside of her. Charlie was tall, and could with the distance of age be seen as a handsome memory, and she needed a handsome memory to replace the horrid one she currently held. And he liked her, even if he was too cowardly to admit it. Anne needed to kiss a boy; she had decided so this morning. And she did not know if anyone would ever wish to kiss her again, so Charlie may be her last hope.

So she turned and smiled back at him. She briefly caught the reaction of his smile growing as she faced forward again. This was an encouraging amount of progress already.

She just needed to figure out how to kiss him.

  
—

  
Anne could not bring herself to share the particulars of her situation, not even with Cole, Diana and Ruby. The mortification of it all was too much to say aloud.

So instead, after they workshopped some story ideas while Cole worked on his clay, she shared that she had been thinking about what Ruby said, and she had decided she did wish for a romantical memory. Just one.

When she told them of her plan to kiss Charlie, Ruby was beyond herself with excitement, but Diana and Cole were far more skeptical.

“But you don’t even like Charlie,” Diana argued.

“I don’t dislike him,” she countered. “And besides, you kissed Moody, and you had no feelings for him at all.”

“Those were the rules of the game!”

“Diana’s right,” Cole interjected in a mild voice, to prevent Anne’s retort. “It’s one thing to agree to play a game, it’s a different thing entirely to _decide_ to kiss someone.”

“If a boy kissed someone he didn’t like, nobody would bat an eye.”

“It’s not the same for girls,” said Diana, but her voice gave away her irritation at the statement.

“Oh, why are you _ruining_ Anne’s chance for romance!” Ruby whined.

“Thank you, Ruby,” Anne said, pointing at her as if she were the only true friend in the Story Club.

“Maybe Anne will grow to love Charlie, and she will be happy with him forever!”

Anne silently cursed herself for being so quick to accept the support. Diana and Cole looked at her, waiting for a response to Ruby’s fantastical notions.  
Anne tried to sound as blasé as possible when she said “Maybe I will.”

Diana rolled her eyes. “But what if you don’t? Anne, Charlie might actually like you, and if you kiss him, it will do nothing but make him follow you around more.”

“I’m sure that won’t happen. You were all there for spin the bottle, he never spoke up for me. His feelings can’t possibly run that deep.”

“That’s the problem, Anne,” Cole piped up. “You deserve to be kissed by someone who isn’t afraid to be seen with you.” Cole looked at his sculpture then, eyes contemplative.

“That may never happen!”

“It will,” he said, and the intensity of his eyes warned of no further argument. “You may be different, but you’re not as different as I am. And if you can’t find someone who isn’t ashamed to be with you, what hope have I?”

Anne’s heart broke for her friend, and the hardships he will undoubtedly face. Though she believed herself homely, especially with her short hair only reaching her chin, she would never know how hard it would be to live in a world where any future romance would be a source of scorn.

“If I meet someone who likes me in the future, it won’t matter if I kiss someone now,” she said gently, though she didn’t believe she would meet such a person.

Diana, also looking at Cole with sadness in her eyes, said “Anne, I will support you no matter what you choose, I just hope that you will think on it a little longer.”

“I will. But it won’t be a big deal, believe me.”

“It will too be a big deal!” Ruby gushed. “Anne’s first kiss, oh I bet you’ll come up with a wonderful way to describe it, even if I won’t understand you when you do!”  
Ruby’s remark brought some much-needed levity to the room. They all giggled, and when Cole looked at her with exasperated fondness, Anne felt as though everything was alright again.

  
—

  
Walking home that evening, Anne had decided to give proper thought to the idea. If it was what Cole and Diana wished, she would not be her rash and impulsive self. She would instead consider the gravity of her decision, and perhaps try to think of an alternative way to solve her conundrum. She was more mature these days, and would not give into her passions so quickly.

“Bonsoir, Anne.”

She had been so deep in thought, she had not noticed Jerry approaching the fence, ready to go to his own home. She stopped in her tracks, eyes wide. His ripped cap partially obscured his face. He looked positively like a child. Oh heavens, that was the face she was doomed to remember forever.

He stopped a few steps in front of her, a crease on his forehead. “Anne?”

“Go away!” she yelled, entirely overwhelmed.

He shrugged, used to her wild moods. “I am trying. You are blocking me.”

Anne realized she was standing right in front of the gap in the fence. She quickly moved to the side, unable to look Jerry in the eye.

He paused for a few seconds, and she desperately wished to yell again, but instead she broke into a run, not looking behind her once as she made her way into the kitchen.

She panted by the door, sure that Jerry would comment on this tomorrow, or some day. He would call her strange, or something small, and he would be blissfully unaware of her troubles. Her plans to think over her idea went away with him. She could not live like this any longer! And since she had no other course of action, she would just have to go with her initial idea.

—

It was a few days later when Anne was sitting in a circle with the girls, that Jane mentioned Prissy’s engagement party.

Prissy and Mr. Phillips were due to be married in winter, but Mrs. Andrews had decided that the engagement party should take place before everyone was too busy with the harvest to attend. Anne supposed it must hold some kind of social meaning, to show off your eldest daughter to the entire town and brag about their engagement. Anne also knew that her unwise gossip-spreading almost ruined Prissy, when Anne first arrived, and that the engagement would help to offset any bad reputation Prissy gained from it.

So everyone was invited, and since the weather had not yet turned, the children would be able to play outside for a while whilst the adults congratulated the soon-to-be-weds. Anne was excited to go to a party, but it was not until Jane had mentioned that the entire class was invited, that Anne realized the opportunity that presented itself.

When she made up her mind to kiss Charlie, she hadn’t realized just how difficult it would be. It was not like she could do it in class, with Mr. Phillips and the whole class around to see. And nobody had brought up the idea of playing spin-the-bottle again during break, and she certainly would not be the one to suggest it. She had spoken to Charlie a few times since, during break and after school, but she had the severe misfortune to be constantly interrupted before she could bring herself to say anything that might encourage him to kiss her.

Yesterday, for example, she had mentioned that it was beginning to get dark very early, and that soon she would have to walk home alone with very little daylight. But before she could suggest that he walk her home, she found her attention diverted to an apple that was held up directly in front of her face.

“Bash wanted me to give this to you.” She could hear the humor in Gilbert’s tone, as if he were holding back a laugh. “First of the season. The trees were left alone for so long we weren’t sure they’d bear fruit this year.”

“I am trying to have a conversation, Gilbert,” she said stiffly, trying not to let on to Charlie just how much she was seething at the interruption.

“If I had to wait until you weren’t talking to give this to you, _Carrots_ , it would turn rotten.”

She turned so harshly to face him that her short hair whipped around, some strands catching on her lips. “You’re the only rotten thing here, Gilbert Blythe!”

She had spoken so loudly that she was sure the entire schoolyard was looking at her. Charlie cleared his throat politely and walked toward Billy and Moody, obviously uncomfortable at her explosion. But she continued to glare at Gilbert, refusing to blink until he did.

Gilbert did not look hurt by her remark, only mildly amused. His eyes didn’t shy away from hers, and she couldn’t see an ounce of contrition on his face.  
Then he reached forward with his free hand towards her face. He didn’t touch her skin, but his finger caught on a lock of her hair, pushing it back so it unstuck from her lips.

He blinked first, and smiled, as he pushed the apple forwards towards her clenched fists. “Don’t shoot the messenger, Anne. Bash was just trying to do something nice for you.”

Anne scowled deeper. Gilbert had to know that she couldn’t refuse the gift if it was Bash who was giving it. She snatched the apple from his hand and promptly walked inside. She could feel the heat of her face, surely a mixture of anger and embarrassment. She was positive Gilbert had come back to Avonlea with the sole mission of making her life miserable.

So the mention of the engagement party lifted her spirits immensely. She was sure that Charlie was not completely put off by her yet, as he had smiled at her this morning before class had started. It may be much easier to kiss him at a party than at school. The adults would be indoors, distracted by the beautiful bride-to-be, and though all of her classmates would be there, it would be more neutral ground. They would also have the absence of adult supervision, and judging by how Tilly and Ruby were giggling, Anne was not the only person to notice how lucrative the opportunity was to get the attention of a boy.

If everyone were busy with their own romantical notions, nobody would be paying any mind to hers.

Ruby’s raised voice broke her out of her thoughts. “Gilbert, will you be going to the engagement party?”

The entire circle turned to face the source of Ruby’s dazzling, hopeful smile. Gilbert was bent over a medical journal, and lifted his head at the question.

“Oh, um…” he frowned slightly and Anne instantly knew exactly what he was thinking. A party sounded well and good, but it was unlikely that Bash would be invited, and so Gilbert would have to decide if he would attend without him. Bash was liked by some people in Avonlea, but only by those who met him, and Anne was sure that he would not be given the chance to meet some of the more conservative folk, even if Mrs. Andrews claimed to be progressive.

Gilbert’s quizzical face eventually turned towards Anne. She tried not to show the pity in her expression; neither Bash nor Gilbert would appreciate pity. But Gilbert’s face changed as well, the lines on his forehead smoothing out and the corner of his lips lifting into a half-smile. “Yes,” he said.

It was Anne’s turn to frown, now. It was as if he read her face and based his decision on whatever would irritate her most. Not that she should be surprised by that, given his behavior toward her for the past couple of months.

Ruby practically swooned at the answer. “Good,” she squeaked, and she giggled behind her hand as Gilbert turned his attention back to his book.

—

Anne had done what she could with her short hair, and her generous bosom friend lent her a dress that sparkled like an emerald. She loved the autumn, but it did make her miss the grandeur of trees bursting with dark green leaves. In this dress, she felt like she was the summer, her hair the sun and her dress the forest. She must have been very excited, she mused, if she were paying her hair such a compliment!

Matthew and Marilla were attending as well, and Marilla looked just as enthused as Matthew—who was not very enthused at all—as they approached the house.

“The last time I was here, I had quite an argument with Mrs. Andrews,” she explained in a murmur, and she explained no more.

There were customary greetings in the house, and Anne realized that the Cuthberts and Shirley-Cuthbert must have been among the last to arrive. The parlor was already thriving with people, talking and laughing, backs facing Anne as they crowd around what she assumed were the happy couple.

Anne never got the chance to wish Prissy a happy engagement and a prosperous marriage, as she was quickly shooed out the door and told that the children were playing around the back of the house.

Mr. Andrews chuckled at her. “In a few months, you and my Jane will be old enough that you won’t be allowed play with boys without a chaperon.”

His wife balked at him. “Don’t say that in front of… _her_.” Mrs. Andrews gave a skeptical look towards Anne, who would have rolled her eyes if it wasn’t terribly impolite. It seemed Anne would never bee considered anything more than a trollop in her eyes, even though Prissy had already forgiven her long ago.

Mr. Andrews had a point though, Anne considered as she walked towards the back garden. There may never come a chance like this again, and if she did not take it tonight, she would be resigning herself to a fate worse than death. Jerry was by all means a good person, but he was just so… Just so the _opposite_ of romantical. He was a pest if nothing else, and she would never fully forgive him for almost usurping her from her place within the Cuthbert family, even if it was not _his_ fault she were a girl.

Anne needed a romantical experience. It did not need to be like in the novels she read, but it needed to feel like more than begrudgingly sharing a bed with a frightened child, because she would not, _could not_ , let that be the closest thing to romance she had.

Diana found her instantly, waving her over to the group of girls sitting on blankets on the far corner of the lawn.  
She had not yet brought up her plan again to Diana, though Diana had glared at her accusingly a few days ago when Anne said hello to Charlie, so she expected she knew. She approached the girls and sat down between Diana and Ruby, saying her hellos.

“What have I missed?”

Ruby looked distractedly into the distance. “Nothing.”

Anne looked at Diana with a raised eyebrow, hoping Diana would have a more fulfilling answer.

“Ruby’s right. Nothing has happened.”

It was only then that Anne noticed the quiet, tense atmosphere of the circle. They were all looking in the same direction as Ruby, and she turned to see what had everyone distracted.

Almost all of the boys in class were on the other side of the lawn, the same awkward expressions on their faces as Anne recognized in Ruby’s. Charlie was there too, and when she waved at him, he seemed to turn beet red before turning to say something to Moody.

Anne then realized that none of the boys had spoken to the girls yet, and vice versa. She groaned at the revelation, turning to her friends.

“ _Really?_ We see these boys every single day in school, and now you’re too shy to talk to them?”

Josie gave her a stern look, as if demanding she lower her voice. “They’re the ones acting strange, you dolt. A girl cannot just go up and speak to a boy! _They_ have to approach _us_!”

Anne groaned again, falling backwards to lie on the grass, eyes squeezed shut in thought. This was hardly a productive way to get her romantical experience over with. She dressed nice and there were no adults to scold her, and conditions would never be more ideal than this, but suddenly everyone was so shy around people they saw almost every single day!

She could walk up and ask to speak to him. But was Josie right, would the boys think that’s too forward? Oh, it simply wasn’t _fair_ that she were born a girl and had to worry about silly things like this. Apparently she was the only person brave enough to break the tension, only she was not allowed by virtue of being a girl!

Her friends went even quieter, but she kept her eyes shut and tried to come up with a plan. Someone had to do _something_!

“You know, it’s rude to sleep at a party.”

Her eyes snapped open at the low timber of the voice. Gilbert looked down at her, hands in his pockets, looking beyond pleased with himself for catching her off-guard. He smiled down at her, only she could hardly see it, he towered so high above her.

She hadn’t heard him approaching, and though she now understood why the girls had hushed up, nobody thought to nudge her a warning.

Gilbert didn’t give her a chance to respond. He looked back towards the rest of the group. “Ladies,” he smiled politely.

Ruby pipped a tiny squeak, and Anne could practically feel how tense she was beside her.

“Hi Gilbert,” Diana said, and Anne caught her friendly smile as she sat back up to a more respectable pose. Anne tried not to feel the sting of betrayal by her closest friend. Diana was simply friendly, and though Anne had told her of her resolve to hate Gilbert forever, Diana had no reason to find fault in him, since he was never rude to _her_.

The rest of the boys approached, under the pretense of wishing to speak to Gilbert. But the spell was broken at least, as the boys moved from their corner of the lawn and the conversations began to extend beyond the gender barrier.

—

She spoke to Charlie a couple of times during the party, but mostly as part of a group conversation. Even when it was initially between just them, Gilbert, in his eternal pigheadedness, would insert himself, or distract one of them into a different conversation. Anne began to suspect that he was doing it on purpose, to annoy her, but she hoped desperately that was not so. Because if he knew he was annoying her, he knew that she wished to speak to Charlie alone, which could mean he knew she wanted to kiss Charlie, and _goodness_ , what if he knew why?

She shook the thought from her head. There was no way he could possibly know her current predicament, as he surely would have brought it up to tease her before now.

The circle had gotten smaller and smaller, as girls and boys coupled up and moved away. Not so far that they would be alone with their partner-for-the-evening; nobody was interested in being a scandal. Or at least the girls weren’t. Anne was sure most of the boys would not mind at all.

When she eventually did get a few minutes alone with Charlie, Anne felt a twisting in her stomach that she explained away to herself as nerves. When did Anne Shirley-Cuthbert decide not to do something just because it made her nervous?

It was not easy to speak with Charlie. There were a lot of awkward silences and small-talk about the weather, the harvest, and all manner of things Anne didn’t particularly want to talk about.

Anne had resigned herself to the idea that she would have to kiss him. Charlie was a coward, she recalled, and if she were to wait for him to kiss her, she would spend forever talking about what crops their families planted this year.

She had made up her mind, and was half-way through a countdown from ten to give her the incentive to lean forward, when somebody called Charlie’s name.

Charlie’s attention went behind her. It was Billy that had called him, and his name was followed shortly be a “come here.”

Charlie stood up and left without another word, going towards his friend. Anne recited every colorful word she’d ever read in her mind as he walked away from her. Billy wasn’t far, so when he asked Charlie “what are you doing with the orphan?”, she could hear him clear as day.

She also heard Charlie mutter “Nothing,” defensively.

Anne’s mind quietened slightly, the rest of the conversations blurring, as if she were listening to them underwater. Her frustration quickly became a profound sadness, as she recalled Cole’s words in the woods.

_“You deserve to be kissed by someone who isn’t afraid to be seen with you.”_

Tears stung her eyes as she rose and walked as slowly as her passionate soul would allow. Is wasn’t fair! Charlie liked her, and even that isn’t enough for him to kiss her! He truly was a coward, unwilling to kiss someone who could not make it clearer that she wanted to be kissed.

She ignored Diana’s call of her name as she walked towards the fence in the lawn and, since there was no gap, climbed to the other side. She continued to walk though the woods, at least she knew where she was. This was the quickest way home, and Diana would tell Matthew and Marilla she left, and she could go straight to bed and today would finally be over.

As she stomped through the woods, she thought with fury that not only was her plan of a romance ruined, it was changed for the worse. She didn’t even like Charlie that much, and now Charlie would forever be her most tragical romance, and Jerry would remain her most successful one! How could this happen to her, of all people. If she weren’t as well-read, she wouldn’t know what a romance is supposed to be like, and she wouldn’t know that a tragical romance was supposed to be _heroic_ and _beautiful_ and was not supposed to be so _pathetic_!

“Anne, slow down!” she heard behind her, along with quick footsteps. Oh fantastic! As if the day couldn’t get worse, now Gilbert Blythe was about to see her sorry state. She would never hear the end of it.

She didn’t break pace until he grabbed her shoulder and spun her around to face him. He was panting slightly, cheeks pink.

“What is wrong with you? Why would you just walk into the woods without a word, in the dark?” he scolded.

Anne did not wish to be berated by Gilbert Blythe, of all people. He must be able to smell when she wished to see him least, and decide to follow his nose to spite her. She didn’t need his lectures right now, didn’t need his company. She needed to think of how to fix this entire mess! She cannot continue to let Jerry Baynard be her most romantical memory, couldn’t let Charlie be her tragical story, and she was running out of time and everything was _changing_ and soon she would never get a chance to be kissed and—

Gilbert’s lips were softer than she expected. That was the first solid thought that escaped her mind through the panic. And for a moment, she wanted to laugh at how strange the thought was. Because she had certainly never thought about the softness of Gilbert’s lips before, so she couldn’t possibly _expect_ it, and how would she know the softness of them now? It took a moment to realize that it was because her own lips were pressed against them.

She didn’t remember leaning forward, but her body was hinged at such an angle that it must have been her. And her eyes were closed though she didn’t remember doing that either. His hand was still on her shoulder, but it hadn’t pulled her towards him. It just sat there, as if forgotten.

And though his lips were soft, they were tight, as if he was not expecting to be kissed. She heard the sharp inhale of surprise that he sucked through his nostrils.  
They stayed that way for a few seconds, though it felt like a lifetime, an awkward, unsure feeling rising in her as he remained frozen.

She moved to pull away, possibly to blurt out an excuse if she could, and run as fast as her feet would carry her. But then she felt a rush of warmth on her face as he exhaled, smoothly, and he leaned forward as she leaned back, lips following hers and mouth softening until their position was no longer a pressing of mouths. It was, undoubtedly, a kiss.

So this was how it felt. Anne had to admit, she could see the appeal. To focus almost entirely on a sensation, so much so that the ground could fall from under her and she was sure she wouldn’t notice. She would simply float, and focus on the tiny movements of lips against hers.

His hand remembered itself and smoothed past her shoulder, towards the center of her back, and pressed her closer to him so they could both straighten and their mouths would remain touching. Almost as if she were not in control of her limbs, she felt her own hands reaching forward too, snaking around his neck as his free hand cupped her her cheek. His mouth moved with hers, against hers, and she let out a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding.

When she felt his tongue against her bottom lip, she almost snapped completely out of whatever spell she was under. She pulled backwards again, this time on reflex rather than on queue, and his hands suddenly flew off of her and he retracted his tongue immediately, as if in contrition.

So she let him kiss her a little longer, softly, lips skimming against hers, his bottom lip moving as if he were trying to keep his mouth closed and capture her bottom lip at the same time.

This time, when she pulled back, he let her. Her eyes fluttered open, and it seemed to be darker now than it was before she had closed them. But his eyes shone when they opened, dark but dazzling as he looked at her with a mixture of disbelief and awe.

Then of course, he had to ruin it, with the achingly slow smile that stretched across his face. The shine in his eyes changed to a sparkle of mischief and she suddenly realized her actions.

She took her hands off of him as if burned, taking a quick leap backward and raising a finger practically under his nose. “Don’t…” she warned, though her throat was scratchy and the word did not carry the weight she wanted it to.

But it was too late. He was too far gone to heed her warning, smug smile set firmly in place. “What was that for?” he teased.

“Don’t!” she said, raising her voice that it might carry with it the full gravitas of her advice.

“How long have you been waiting to do that?”

She didn’t scream, but she did try to kill him stone dead with a glower as she turned back toward the path home.

Of course, he didn’t just leave, as anyone else might have done if she glared at them the same way. “Is this why you’ve been so quiet, Anne? Trying not to confess your feelings for me, huh?” She could hear the laughter in his voice.

The audacity of this boy! She almost broke her teeth trying to set her mouth shut, that he would not be given the opportunity to tease whatever response she would have.

He continued to walk behind her. “Were you hoping to get me alone by walking into the woods at night?”

She walked a little faster, and he jogged until he was beside her again, matching her furious stride.

“And poor unassuming me just went right ahead and followed you. I never could have known you were planning to take advantage of me.”

“ _Shut up_!” she cried, unable to help herself.

He laughed, so loud it seemed to echo through the trees. And if she weren’t so angry with the fact that she was the subject of his joke, she might have been secretly happy to hear him laugh again, _really laugh_ , for the first time since he came back to Avonlea.

But Anne wasn’t in the right mind to think like that at all. She just kept her gaze forward and tried to keep the pace that was sure to wind her soon. And after a minute of him keeping up with her, she snapped “Why are you still following me?”

She was almost furious at how casual his tone was. “Because Matthew and Marilla would think terribly of me if I let you walk home alone in the dark.”

She could see Green Gables through the trees, and consoled herself with the idea that she was almost home. She slowed down to catch her breath, and Gilbert walked in front of her, turning to face her and walking backwards so as she had no choice but to look at him.

“We don’t have to talk about it right now, if you don’t want to,” he said, and she was taken aback by the tenderness of his voice. His eyes looked sincere, and though Anne has spent the past couple of months remembering her hatred for him, in this moment, she remembered that he was her friend.

They emerged from the trees before she managed to say “Thank you.” She spoke quietly, embarrassed but grateful for the olive branch he was extending.

They’d reached the gate by the time his smile returned. “We’ll have plenty of time to talk about it tomorrow, Carrots.”

And with that, he walked past her, away from Green Gables, towards the path to his house.

It struck her then. _Tomorrow._ There was still a week of classes left before the harvest, and she would have to see him tomorrow! In front of all of her friends and his, having seen them leave the party early! Surely there would be questions, Diana would certainly have a few. What would she tell her bosom friends? What would he tell _his_ friends?

She walked through the field and towards the house, green dress billowing in the chilly air. She wondered if she could fake sick for an entire week. If she could avoid school for this week only, she would have the whole harvest break to be clear of him, and maybe he would forget the entire thing ever happened upon their return. She knew somehow, that he would not tell anyone, but what if everyone looked at them and they just _knew_?

She went straight to her bedroom though she was not a bit tired. Diana would laugh at her, and tell her that this is what happens when she acts impulsively and didn’t think anything through. She had only wanted a romantical memory, and now suddenly she was in an even worse-off position than before. _Gilbert Blythe!_ Her sworn nemesis, the smug, teasing, _rude_ boy she vowed to despise! This was not the tragical romance she wanted to look back on. This was just…tragical!

Anne climbed into bed and swore to herself that when she was older, and the bride to Adventure, she would never let herself look back on her first kiss. In fact, she would not wait until she was older. She was never going to think a romantic thought ever again, starting now!

She had not noticed her fingers rising to her face, softly brushing across her lips as if she could still feel the ghost of…no!

She tucked her hands beneath the cover of her bed.

_Starting now!_

**Author's Note:**

> Young romance is cute but young fake-antagonism is even cuter


End file.
